


profanation

by Anonymous



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: (Referenced) - Freeform, Aftercare, Butt Plugs, Come Inflation, Communication, Communication Failure, Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mind the Tags, Multi, No Smut, Office Sex, Orgy, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Pointedly Not Giving A Shit About Real-Life Biology, Scene Gone Wrong, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, all sex takes place offscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After they’re done, there’s laughter, there’s chatting and talking, there’s someone near his head sayingyou did so good, you’re so good, but god there’slaughing.





	profanation

**Author's Note:**

> title from [profanation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBhEEEloehA) by leonard bernstein because thats what i had on repeat while writing this
> 
> i have absolutely no idea what this is or why it got written
> 
> further summary: a sex scene goes bad for our pov character right at the end, which is where we lay our scene. what ensues is a whole bunch of worried boyfriend trying to help make things better

After they’re done, there’s laughter, there’s chatting and talking, there’s someone near his head saying _you did so good, you’re so good_, but god there’s _laughing_ and someone drops another towel over him like it’s a blanket, softer than the one he’s laying on, and there’s still so much talking and giggling and someone’s petting at his face, his hair, and he’s still fucking crying and people are laughing and he doesn’t know _why_ and he says _get out, all of you get out_, and the room goes dead silent and he says _please, just leave me alone_, and his voice breaks ragged and the hands leave him and when he opens his eyes the room is empty.

He stares at the ceiling, blankly contemplating the white ceiling tiles. Who the fuck was the interior designer that thought yes okay great this is a wonderful decision to make every office building Pat’s ever seen have these weird blotchy white cardboardy ceiling tiles and ugly fluorescent lights, he hates staring up at them, he always tries to find pictures but he never can, except when his eyes find patterns that look like weird scary faces, and he’s not wearing his glasses and his eyes are all blurry and 

The door clicks open and a frantic voice says _Pat?_ and suddenly he’s back where he was before and he’s panicked-crying again and saying things like _don’t please god don’t don’t don’t please I can’t take anymore I can’t please don’t make me I’m done I can’t please I’m sorry I’m sorry_ —

“Patrick, oh my god, baby, Pat, hey, hey, it’s me, it’s Brian, I’m not back for more, honey, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to, god _godgodgod_, they left you here by yourself?”

“I told them to, don’t get mad, please, they were laughing, I couldn’t deal with it, I told them to get out, I didn’t know everyone would leave.”

“Can I touch you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” He doesn’t touch him. “Did something go bad?”

“No. Well. I don’t know. It wasn’t bad until it was done and then I was crying and they were laughing and I think they were laughing at me and I couldn’t — I couldn’t let them see me crying — I — I — _fuck_,” he says, and pushes the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“Shit,” Brian says softly. “And no one even called me. Goddammit. They were supposed to if —”

“You were meeting with someone. Prob’ly thought you were almost done. Didn’t want to interrupt you with this.”

“They should have,” Brian says, fiercely, and Pat flinches. “Shit. Sorry, sorry, baby, it’s not you I’m upset with. You did everything perfect, baby, I promise. You did so good. You’re perfect. I love you so much. I’m gonna help you, okay? Can I help you sit up?”

“I can’t — I can’t.”

“Okay. That’s okay.” Pat hears him rummaging around for something. “Is it alright — I’ve got a, a cool washcloth, would you like it if I put it on your face?”

“Yes please,” Pat says in a very small voice.

He draws a shuddery breath when it comes in contact with his skin — it’s cold but it feels nice, gives him something other than the varyingly dull ache through his body to focus on. He leans into the touch, grateful for something to ground him, and Brian gently brushes his hair out of his face and dabs at his forehead, temples, neck, and at some point he opens his eyes again to blink at him.

Brian’s eyebrows are drawn in tense concern, but the rest of his face is very gentle, very careful, and Pat turns towards him. Brian cups Pat’s cheek in his hand, tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“Hey, baby,” Brian says softly. “How you doing?”

“Not good,” Pat says, and Brian makes a soft, sad noise. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, love. I got you. Gonna take good care of you.”

“I wanna go home.”

“Let’s get you there, then,” Brian says. “Do you feel more like you can sit up now?”

“I dunno.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. ‘S just. You can look, but don’t show me.”

Brian moves to the other end of the couch and Pat stares up at the ceiling again. The second towel is lifted off him. It’s cold without it.

“Shit, wow, okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want the plug out?”

“I — no. I can’t. I’ll screech and it’ll be a huge mess and I don’t want anyone to hear it and I don’t want anyone to blame me for fucking up the streaming couch. Please can it wait till we’re home?”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need.” The towel returns to its previous employment as a blanket. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Kinda. Doesn’t hurt. I mean. Kinda hurts, but, uh, not in a concerning way, really. Just a lot.”

“I bet,” Brian says. “Let me know when you’re ready to try sitting, okay?”

“I mean, we can give it a shot,” Pat says doubtfully.

It would be humiliating, if it was anyone other than Brian. Pat’s legs are still draped over the armrest, but Brian patiently helps Pat move, lets him go limp against him and presses a soft kiss to his temple and freezes stock-still whenever Pat gives a little whimper or groan of protest or discomfort and lets him settle before he moves again. But Brian’s patient, doesn’t make him feel bad about it, whispers praise and love to him until he’s finally sitting up. He wraps his arms around Brian’s neck and Brian gentles at him, peppers his face with light kisses and soft touches.

“I think, uh,” Brian says, “I think that shirt I wore in that one video is still hanging around in here somewhere. And I drove today. So. We’re gonna make this work, you and me, okay? We’re gonna get you home safe and sound and take care of you.”

“Okay,” Pat murmurs, nuzzling against Brian’s jaw. “Thank you.”

He lets his head fall back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling again, as Brian bustles around. He folds his hands in his lap and, shit, yeah, okay, he can feel the swell of his belly, the way it curves out around the tight heavy weight of cum inside him. This time, now, thank god, he’s not filled with the shuddery overwhelmed panic and he’s not scared, just observational, just catalogs the sensations. It’s not bad. He'd been extremely into it, not all that long ago, whenever it was that someone was working a plug into him, but now he's so thoroughly out of that space that it's just strange. It’s a little uncomfortable, but no more than he’d expected it would be; the plug inside him is almost worse for the amount of sensation it gives, the way it rubs against him if he shifts.

Brian fusses him gently into a shirt, cleans off his legs and ass and gets him into a pair of shorts — huh, those are Brian’s too, he’s pretty sure — and after all that wiggling around it can’t possibly be worse if he stands up, so he lets Brian help him to his feet.

“Fuck,” he hisses, when he’s up and leaning on Brian. He drops his face against Brian’s hair and waits for himself to catch up to the change in position. He’s kind of dizzy — is he dehydrated? shit, did he drink anything at all after? or during? — and his center of balance is off just enough to make him reel a little. Brian strokes his hair and waits patiently for Pat to indicate that he’s alright, and then, because he trusts Brian, he lets him take him out of the room.

Pat leans against his desk as Brian flits around getting both of their things together, watches him with no real focus. He’s out of his line of sight when someone says something to him, something Pat can’t make out, and Brian responds with more anger than Pat’s ever heard from him before.

“No, you left him _alone_, what’d you think was going to happen? I don’t care if he said that, you _needed_ to have someone in there to make sure he was okay, I told you that specifically! If he wanted to be fully alone he’d have safeworded and you’d have called me which, by the fucking way, you should have done. _Jee-zus_.”

A pause, and then Brian’s voice is softer, a little gentler.

“Yeah, I think he’ll be okay. Shit, though, you gotta take better care of him than that. He said people were laughing and that’s why he got upset, because he thought they were laughing at him. I know. I’m sure he knows logically that they weren’t, but c’mon, after all that you really think anyone can think straight?” He sighs. “I’m gonna get him home. Don’t expect us tomorrow, either, I’m gonna make him rest and no fucking way am I leaving him alone. Tell whoever needs to know, I don’t give a shit, I need to take care of him and I’m not hanging around any longer.”

There’s a longer pause, of which Pat catches some of the things the other person says, like _really really really sorry_ and _didn’t know_ and _you’re right_ and _it’ll never ever happen again_.

“Damn right it won’t,” Brian says. Another sigh. “No, I’m not — I’m not gonna hold it against you guys, okay? Not if he doesn’t. Scenes go wrong all the time. I’m just upset I wasn’t there to help, ‘cause we could’ve avoided all this. Yeah. Text me later, I’ll let you know. See you.”

Brian is so gentle, so careful, as he takes Pat out to his car. The picture of a goddamn gentleman. He opens the door for Pat and leans in to kiss his cheek before he closes it. The seatbelt over his belly is… not the most fun experience of his life, but he’ll live. He leans back and closes his eyes as Brian drives, lets the sounds of cars and the muffled music from the radio wash over him until they get home.

Brian strips him again with careful hands, when they’re in the bathroom, and Pat gets in the bathtub as Brian takes his clothes off too.

“Will it bother you if I’m naked? Should I leave my underwear on?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Pat says. He trusts him.

Brian kneels between Pat’s thighs. “How d’you want me to do this, baby?”

“Carefully,” Pat says, and gives a huff of a laugh. “No, I dunno, I came like a zillion times earlier, swear to god I lost count ‘cause Sim’s fuckin’ ruthless with a vibrator, so I don’t — I don’t really want to again.” He drags his hands through his hair. “Just… be real gentle, I guess. Fuck.”

“Okay. I will, I promise. Tell me if you need me to stop. Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah. A little better than I was before, anyway.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Brian dips his head to kiss Pat’s knee. “You ready?”

Pat nods and braces himself, pushes his feet down against the floor of the tub. Brian moves slow and careful, mercifully angles the plug away from his clit. Pat whimpers at the movement, but gestures him onwards; if he stops at every sound Pat makes then they’ll never get this over with.

He’d expected it to be agonizing, to find himself wailing with overstimulation, but in all honesty it could be much worse. Brian working the widest part of the plug out of him wrings a few tears out of him, but he doesn’t start sobbing again. The worst of it done, Pat closes his eyes and rests against the side of the tub. As it leaves him, the worst of the pressure relents too and he groans in relief, feels some of the tension collapse from his shoulders as cum leaks out of him. He’s sure it’s a sight to behold, but he doesn’t really want to behold it right now.

“You’re doing so well, Pat, I’m so proud of you,” Brian says, stroking Pat’s leg. Pat sighs. He runs his hand over his face, through his hair, looks up at Brian as he pulls the plug out and sets it aside. Brian offers him a little smile, and Pat manages to return it; he watches relief bloom across Brian’s face. “There you go. Hey, hon.”

“Hey,” Pat says. “Thank you.”

“‘Course, baby. That feel better?”

“Lots.”

“Good. Good, I’m so glad.” He rests his chin on Pat’s knee. “How about I come sit behind you and hold you, and we can talk about what happened?”

Pat nods and sits up so Brian can slide in behind him, let Pat settle in the V his legs make. Pat is sweaty and sticky and Brian doesn’t seem to care at all as Pat lays back against him. He kisses Pat’s head and runs his hands over his arms.

“Want me to rub your stomach, see if we can work more of that out of you?”

“Please. Be gentle though.”

“‘Course.” He nuzzles his face into Pat’s hair, traces featherlight fingertips over the still-swollen curve of Pat’s belly. He presses his thumbs in lightly and Pat hisses an exhale; Brian pulls his hands away quickly.

“You’re fine, ‘s just — yeah. You’re good. You can keep doing that.”

Brian’s hands return and Pat relaxes against him, closes his eyes. He can feel Brian breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against his back. The steady slight pressure of his hands is, after the initial strangeness, quite nice.

“Do you want to tell me what happened after I left?” Brian says.

Pat nods, gathers his thoughts. Brian was first; he’d had to run to a meeting, so he hadn’t lingered. They’d had responsible conversations first; this sort of thing is a regular occurrence, and usually it goes well. They’d tried this today for the first time; Pat had been fantasizing about it for fucking _ages_ and they’d finally gotten around to giving it a shot. Or several, as it were.

“It was really good, actually,” Pat says. “Literally nothing went wrong until afterwards. I was, like, real fuckin’ out of it, like, I kind of ended up on the edge of feeling good and it being too much, y’know? That was — it was — shit, Brian, for _real_ it honestly was one of the hottest things that ever happened to me, you know I think about that sort of thing all the time, I still can’t believe it fuckin’ happened, but — god, it’s a lot. It ended up, uh, god, I can’t even remember who all got involved, swear it felt like it was almost everyone. Well. Y’know. Everyone capable of coming inside me like that, anyway. ‘M glad you were first.”

“Yeah?”

“Got to enjoy it most. God. I don’t even know how to tell you how it felt. It was so fucking good, except then it wasn’t but that wasn’t anyone’s fault. I don’t know exactly what happened — I guess maybe it sort of went over that edge into not good anymore? Like, I was crying, but that was to be expected, but then it turned into like, I dunno, real bad sobbing? And I don’t think anyone else could tell the difference but you would’ve. But they couldn’t tell and I couldn’t say anything so everyone was just going on as usual but I was freaking out and my brain wouldn’t stop interpreting everyone’s laughing as being at me, like, poor little pathetic thing stuffed with everyone’s cum sobbing his fucking brains out, whatta piece of work.” He sighs, shakes his head. 

Brian takes a breath to say something, probably reassure him, but Pat keeps talking so he can’t.

“I know that’s not what was happening, I know everyone was just goofing off and having a good time. But I, uh, I basically shut down, I guess, and yelled at everyone to leave and I guess I must’ve sounded bad enough to make everyone really fuckin’ believe I needed everyone gone. I wish someone had stayed, but I don’t blame them. They thought they were doing the right thing. I didn’t say what I needed, and so it makes sense that things played out this way.”

“I did specifically say that someone needed to stay with you after until I got there.”

“I know. But I don’t think it’s wrong for them to have taken what I said over what you said, y’know?”

“Yeah. That’s true.”

“I do wish someone had gotten you, though. Did anyone, uh. I don’t know how long I was alone for. Did anyone tell you?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I can ask? I know Simone’s gonna check in later.”

Pat shrugs. “I don’t care that much. Felt like a long time but also not very long at all. I dunno. I was in fuckin’ outer space.”

“Scared the shit out of me when I came in the room, I tell you what,” Brian says. “You were so still, staring at the ceiling with your eyes glazed over… I was _terrified_ something really fucked up had happened. Not that this wasn’t —”

“I know what you mean. And I really don’t think it was that fucked up? I mean. I was pretty fucked up. But I think the only thing anyone did wrong was not get you right away, and even then I don’t blame them, ‘cause I said outright I wanted to be left alone. Next time we’ll all know better. Are you mad?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Brian sighs. “Not at you, either way. It's just. That could’ve been _really_ bad. Like, even worse than it was.”

“I know. But it wasn’t.”

“Still,” Brian says. He wraps an arm around Pat’s chest, holds him tight without squeezing him anywhere uncomfortable. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay. Really. I promise,” Pat says, tilting his head back to push his face against Brian’s. “I know you’re worried. But I’m gonna be fine. Just gotta get some rest and have some conversations and whatever. Might be sensitive but, like, I bounce back.”

“I know you do,” Brian says. He kisses Pat’s head. “Sorry for fussing.”

“Don’t ever stop,” Pat says. “I like it. I like when you take care of me. And I think I need some fussing-over right now. And, also, a goddamn shower. Christ, I’m a mess.”

“Whenever you’re ready, we can get that going,” Brian says. His careful, tender ministrations have helped an awful lot; he’s sure that the situation between his spread thighs is an mess of cum that’s managed to work its way out of him, and he’s equally sure that it’s going to be super gross when he stands up and the change in posture and gravity takes effect. But there’s no longer a visible indication on his body of what’s happened, just the remaining ache of being pushed to his limits in more ways than one.

“Now’s good as anytime, I think,” Pat says, and lets Brian get up to turn the water on. He takes his own sweet time to get back to his feet, dawdles ‘till Brian helps him up. He hugs him, and lets the warm water wash the evidence of his misadventures down the drain.

Brian continues to fuss over him, but in the regular way, the affectionate-doting way that he does, where he washes Pat’s hair and his body and touches him with gentle hands and covers him in tender little kisses.

They curl up in bed together; Pat’s head rests on Brian’s chest, and Brian pets his hair. They have a movie on, but neither of them are paying any attention to it; Pat’s half-asleep and Brian’s texting one-handed.

“Sim wants to know if you’re okay,” Brian says.

“‘M sleepy,” Pat mumbles, and Brian laughs softly. “I’m alright, though. Gonna sleep all fuckin’ day tomorrow. But I’m fine. Promise.” Pause. “Hey, was it her you were yelling at earlier?”

“I didn’t yell at her,” Brian huffs.

“Fine. Talking in a raised voice at earlier?”

“Yeah. She, uh, she sort of ended up in my line of fire. I feel kinda bad.”

“I’m sure she understands. You had every right to be stressed.”

“She said she’s not mad at me, so.”

“She doesn’t lie about that shit,” Pat says, snuggling closer to Brian. “Tell her you love her and you’re not mad at her and that you’re going to cuddle me and go to sleep. Because I’m sleepy and want cuddles.”

Brian laughs. “Alright, alright, hold your horses,” he says, as he finishes typing and hits send and sets his phone aside. “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Good,” Pat says, and sighs contentedly as Brian pulls him closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kisses Pat’s head. “Sleep good, baby.”

Pat closes his eyes and lets himself relax against Brian; his familiar warmth, the way he smells, the shape of him, the way his fingers trail through Pat’s hair, soothe the last of Pat’s frayed nerves as he drifts off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you feel so moved! this one is one of those weird ones that im highly self conscious about skdjfhg. i'll delete comments if you like and so forth


End file.
